


Family

by jojojem116



Series: Family [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 12:54:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15097145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jojojem116/pseuds/jojojem116
Summary: The first thing Sherlock Holmes did after jumping off the roof of Saint Bartholomew's Hospital, was visit his mother.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is not mine. The BBC Sherlock comes from the genius that is Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat and is based on the stories by Arthur Conan Doyle.

The first thing Sherlock Holmes did after jumping off the roof of Saint Bartholomew's Hospital, was visit his mother.  
John Watson was called in to identify the body, although there was no real need he had watched him jump.  
No one informed Mycroft Holmes; he read it in the paper, a day later.  
Violet Holmes read it in the very same paper while sitting across from her youngest at the breakfast table. Placing the paper on the table she raised an eyebrow and waited for an explanation.

Sherlock had never been able to deny his mother anything. In fact, none of the Holmes men could. Siger Holmes had passed 3 years earlier, much to Sherlock's relief, and thankfully did not see the defiant look on Sherlock's face as he stated that his actions were necessary. Had he been alive Sherlock would not have been able to sit right for a week for daring to look at his mother 'in that way' and for taking 'that tone' with her.

Violet sighed, "Does your brother know?"  
"He has undoubtedly read about it, as you have. And they will need to identify the body."  
"So he believes you dead." It wasn't a question. The look of disappointment on his mother's face had Sherlock squirming in his chair.  
"He gave Moriarty the information to put me in this situation, he can live with the consequences of his actions for a while longer. Besides he will know that it is not me in the morgue."  
"How much longer Sherlock? He is your brother and despite what you have deluded yourself into believing, he does care for you!"  
"Then why has he betrayed me? It is not as if I particularly enjoy deceiving John or even Lestrade for that matter, but as I have already said It. Was. Necessary." Sherlock slumped back in his seat and crossed his arms, sulking. Why was he getting a row when it was all Mycroft's fault?  
"I am sure if your brother knew what his actions would lead to he would have chosen another path, now when do you plan on telling him that you are alive?"  
Sherlock let out a sigh "He will undoubtedly call or visit you to help you in this time of 'mourning' I shall inform him then."  
"And John? What of him?"  
Sherlock hesitated; he did not want to lose John's friendship however his life was far more important. "When it is safe to do so." Well aware that that time may never come. It was several hours before Mycroft Holmes arrived at the Holmes family estate. He had called in at 221B Baker Street earlier in the day only to be denied entry by one John Watson. Work had been even more stressful than usual, apparently the government did not believe in personal days, however, truth be told Mycroft had been glad of the distraction, anything to keep away the guilt no matter how brief the reprieve. He still couldn't bring himself to see the body.  
His driver pulled up the drive at around 21.00. Mycroft stepped out of the car and squared his shoulders readying himself to face his mother's tears. He made his way up the stone steps to the great oak front doors and entered. The entrance hall was dim although the flickering light from the lounge indicated that the fire was lit. Moving past the marble staircase he hesitated at the door. His mother had her back to him, facing the fire a glass of red wine on the table by her chair, an ominous sign as his mother almost never drank. "Mummy?" His voice shook slightly and Mycroft mentally berated himself, Holmes men don't show weakness and he had to be strong for mother.  
A movement from the chair drew his attention once more. His mother had risen to face him. He took a second to observe her appearance. The dry eyes, clear face, steady hands. She hadn't heard then. No that was impossible his mother got the same papers as he did, he ensured it, and this was front page news. Even if she hadn't seen the papers surely one of the help would have informed her…she was in shock then.  
"Mummy I…" but before he could get another word out Violet Holmes cut across him,  
"He's not dead Mycroft." Mycroft paused his mother wasn't one to make unfounded exclamations, though these were hardly normal circumstances.  
"I know you want to believe that…" he began as he moved towards his mother.  
"Mycroft do you not think that as a mother I would realise when someone I carried for 9 months and cared for all their life passed away?"  
"Well mummy a mother's intuition can only…"  
"I am well aware of that Mycroft but as your brother is currently in his room sulking because I made him eat his dinner I am can assure you that it is not just a mother's intuition telling me that both my dear boys are safe and well."  
Mycroft froze.  
"He's really ok?" He couldn't bring himself to care about how childish he sounded, he couldn't even be angry at Sherlock for deceiving him, the wave of relief that washed over him was so great that his knees buckled beneath him and he collapsed into the chair previously occupied by his mother.  
"I thought that I… that he was…" Mycroft tried to choke out some sort of explanation to his mother but he couldn't, his eyes glistened with tears. Screw being a Holmes man, the woman kneeling in front of him had seen him at his best and at his worst. Screw the lessons that his father had tried to teach him.  
"That I was dead?" the rich baritone of his brother cut through the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock stood in the doorway watching his brother, The Ice Man, break down in his mother’s arms.  
Break down because of him. Because Mycroft had thought him dead. But it wasn't only that, it wasn't just guilt for the part Mycroft played in his 'death'; it was also relief because of his continued existence…Mycroft cared.  
Sherlock stood, frozen in shock, staring at Mycroft.  
"Well, Sherlock, not many people survive a 5 story drop onto solid concrete."  
"A good thing I didn't land on concrete then isn't it?"  
"Of course, you planned it then?"  
"Naturally" replied Sherlock, stonily, his face showing no emotion.  
The deducing seemed to calm Mycroft slightly, as he settled back into the chair, never taking his eyes of Sherlock as he entered the room.  
Sherlock and his mother moved to sit on the settee facing Mycroft.  
"Why?"  
"Why what, brother dear?"  
"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you come to me? I could have helped you."  
"If it hadn't been for you I wouldn't have needed to fool the world in the first place." He couldn't prevent the smug undertone to his words, he truly had fooled the world, not even his own brother, the nearest he had to an equal had been duped.  
"Moriartys' body was found on the rooftop, bullet through his brain."  
"It was in the paper" Sherlock dismissed, his brother was getting off topic, "Why did you tell him?"  
Mycroft had the decency to look uncomfortable, "I took a risk Sherlock, a calculated risk, but one I had no right to take, and I apologise."  
"That doesn't answer my question! You told him everything, Mycroft! Everything! My entire life story in the hands of that psychopath! That maniac!" There was no disguising the hurt in his voice, the true reason he hadn't gone straight to his brother after the fall, the betrayal seeping through his supposedly non-existent heart.  
Violet put an arm around her youngest in an attempt to calm him.  
"Brother believe me I had no idea that…"  
"No Idea?" he growled dangerously, "No Idea? YOU HAD EVERY IDEA!YOU NEW EXACTLY WHAT HE WAS CAPABLE OF! YOU SAW IT LAST YEAR! YOU BELIEVED THAT HE HAD BROKEN INTO 3 OF THE MOST SECURE BUILDINGS IN ENGLAND SIMULTAINEOUSLY AND YOU LET HIM GO!" He was on his feet now, towering over his brother.  
"Sherlock calm down!" his mother was by him again her pale hands on his trembling shoulders. Sherlock fought to get his breathing under control; he hadn't had an outburst like that since he was 12. While Sherlock may take after his mother in looks, his temperament was entirely from his father he had spent years learning to control his temper, control all of his emotions.  
"I believed?"  
"There was no code Mycroft, just some highly paid security guards. Nothing interesting."  
Mycroft paled but said nothing. The family sat in silence, staring into the fire.  
Sherlock , not one to remain idle for long, broke the silence first, "Moriartys network is still up, I can't return until it's gone."  
"I can do that Sherlock, my men are more than capable of taking care of it"  
"While I do what, precisely? Knit scarves?"  
"Stay safe."  
"Oh dull. No Mycroft I shall remove that last of Moriartys men, your men can stop John from getting shot. I'd hate for my death to have been for nothing!"  
"So that's what he used I was wondering what power he still had over…"  
"Good night Mycroft!" Called Sherlock, already leaving the room.  
Violet Holmes sat back in her seat a small smile gracing her lips, it may only be for one night, but her boys were home.


	3. Chapter 3

Violet Holmes was an early riser, she had been for as long as she could remember. As a girl, she would get up with the sun and walk the grounds of her home in Switzerland revelling in the colours around her.

Mycroft Holmes rose even earlier, global catastrophes, sadly, did not respect his need for rest. It was not uncommon for him to be up at 2:00 am with a mug of strong black coffee and his Blackberry in hand.

Sherlock Holmes didn't rise at all, this was purely because he did not sleep to start with. No, Sherlock preferred to take advantage of the peace that the dark brought to conduct his experiments without interruption.

This is why, when a large explosion; accompanied by the rather putrid smell of burning flesh and urine, resounded through the Holmes Estate at 4:00 am nobody complained. Violet Holmes was already out the door for her morning walk and Mycroft was safely cosseted away in the library at the far end of the home. Sherlock was overjoyed that his theory had proven correct, though no-one knew which theory as no-one dared ask.

In fact, it was only at 4:30 that an argument broke out. Sherlock had stepped into his shower prepared to wash god knows what off of his person only to find that his dear beloved brother had turned off the hot water.  
"MYCROFT!" came the enraged yell from master Sherlocks en-suite. This was promptly followed by thundering footsteps as the youngest Holmes raced towards the library.  
The door flew open with a bang effectively destroying the quiet of Mycrofts sanctuary.  
"What the HELL are you playing at?" the very air seemed to buzz around Sherlock as he towered over his brother in nothing but a towel.  
"To what are you referring brother dear?" Mycroft enquired.  
"THE WATER!" he was attempting to restrain his shivering, but damn it that water was cold!  
"Could you, perhaps, be more specific" Mycroft continued innocently.  
"Don't be dense Mycroft, it doesn't become you. You turned off the hot water"  
"And you are angry because… what? I didn't tell you about it? Yes, it is rather annoying when one makes himself uncomfortable because ones very own brother neglects to tell him things isn't it?"  
"You know if you had got off your arse, Fatcroft, and gone to identify the body, you would have known that it wasn't me!"  
"Well excuse me for not wanting to see my dead brother laid out on a slab!" Mycroft ignored the weight jibe, in truth he was still kicking himself for being too much of a coward to enter the mortuary.  
"And put some clothes on, Sherlock, for God's sake!"  
"Why? This is my home and I can do what I like!"  
"221B is your home little brother and while parading around in nothing but a towel might be acceptable there it most certainly is not in mummys home!"  
"Not anymore it's not, thanks to the British Governments incompetency, I cannot return there until I do their jobs for them!" And with that Sherlock flounced out of the room.  
Mycroft closed his book with a sigh. It was petty, he knew but he couldn't resist taking a little revenge on his brother for what he had put him through yesterday.

Lunch was served promptly at 13:00 and the Holmes family sat at their respective places. Violets portion twice the size of Sherlocks and Mycrofts twice the size of Violets.  
"I intend to leave at 14:00, apparently I have a funeral to arrange." Stated Mycroft, "Out of curiosity whose body will we be burying?"  
"Well Moriarty has to go somewhere"  
"Absolutely not! I refuse to bury that man in the family plot!" exclaimed Mycroft and violet made a noise in agreement.  
"He's dead, I don't suppose it matters where you bury him Mycroft, but John will notice an empty coffin. If it helps john is unaware that I even have a family plot, as are all my acquaintances."  
"What do you plan to do Sherlock?"  
"Well, I'll need a new identity and passport and money of course. Then I intend to search for the rest of Moriartys men. I believe Germany or Switzerland would be a good place to start. Moriarty had a proclivity for dangling blatantly obvious in front of our eyes, he chose the name Rich Brooke which in German is Reichenbach the case that made my name. The Reichenbach Falls are, of course, in Switzerland. I would not put it past him to have some sort of base there."  
"Very well I shall sort out your finances as well as your new papers, come and see me in a week." And with that Mycroft left the table pecking his mother on the cheek as he passed.

And so it was a week later that Sherlock found himself standing in Mycrofts office holding an A4 manila envelope containing his new life.  
"Sherlock I..."  
"Don't get emotional big brother, it makes you seem ordinary." Mycroft sighed and handed over a new iPhone.  
"It's the same contract as your old one, keep in touch." Sherlock simply nodded to his brother in thanks and swept from the room. He had one more stop to make before he left the country for who knows how long.

Sherlock stood in the shadows watching John Watson attempt to say goodbye, he had heard from Mycroft that he was seeing his therapist again. The sight of the once great army doctor restrain himself from saluting and limp away from Sherlocks 'grave' was almost too much for Sherlock. He wanted so desperately to call out to John, to tell him that he was alive, that everything would be okay. But he couldn't. he watched from afar as John Watson regressed back into the shadow of a man he had been 18 months ago, before the whirlwind that was Sherlock Holmes. It was at that moment that Sherlock realised how truly lost he was without his blogger.  
The End


End file.
